


Happy New Year!

by Aibhilin



Series: Aibhilin's One Piece Flashfic/Drabble/Oneshot Section [13]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Ace is alive, Bittersweet, I saw canon and thought it required tweaking, Not Beta Read, Other, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, and a wrench preferably, author is in Marineford-related denial, fireworks y'all, for now, with a screwdriver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22089400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aibhilin/pseuds/Aibhilin
Summary: Ace and Sabo almost barely don’t quite meet.
Relationships: Koala & Sabo (One Piece), Portgas D. Ace & Sabo, Portgas D. Ace & Thatch
Series: Aibhilin's One Piece Flashfic/Drabble/Oneshot Section [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951219
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	Happy New Year!

“Right. So. That's it?”

Her question was answered with an affirmative from the Den Den. It was a small thing, really, the only discerning feature being a noticeable kangaroo cap on its hat. More words were exchanged that he stopped paying attention to, before the connection was cut. Pleasantries, and all that.

It was a wrap, then. And their ship wasn’t scheduled to leave until early the next morning. Ah, damn. Sabo had known they needn’t have hurried the mission along. But did his partner ever listen to him? Noooooooooooooo… a glance from out of the corner of his eye confirmed that Koala was successfully ignoring his pout, having long since gotten used to his antics.

Well, at least there were supposed to be fireworks at the party that evening. That was intriguing.

“Stop it.” was the non sequitur from Koala that came quite literally out of the blue. “I know you’re planning something. We’re not gonna do anything strenuous now that we’ve finally gotten a chance to relax, so get it out of your head.” Sabo did not know what she was talking about, he hadn’t cooked up anything that she’d have to be worried about.

Yet.

“But there’s a special market on today! We really should visit, now that we’re here!” They’d sell some pyrotechnics there, wouldn’t they? What could hold his partner’s attention there…?

“There are bound to be some local specialities that they sell there?” A look at the unfortunate victim of their latest escapades had him retrack his thoughts. “There’ll be hats there, too?” She’d worn a neat, black one with a pretty lilac ribbon around its base. It had looked like a mushroom that had been planted on her head in Sabo's eyes. Of course, he’d not hesitated to tell her exactly that and promptly gotten a hit to the head for his troubles ( _for that alone he truly ought to consider asking for hazard pay. Maybe next time he met Dragon he’d mention that. In her presence, too, just to annoy her._ ).

The hat had been shredded a bit by way of knives that had come flying out of nowhere during their getaway. Seriously, he had not anticipated the throwing knives from one of the exhibition rooms being literally thrown at them. Both of them absolutely should have, in retrospect, especially seeing as their target had been the owner of the mansion that very room had been in.

Ah, rivers and the bridges that have water passing through and all that shtick.

Lazily, Sabo put a hand over his eyes. “We going to the market after lunch, then?”

A long-suffering sigh. Another moment was passed in comfortable silence. Her answer came, preceded by a few drawn-out words that did nothing to dampen his spirits or make the smile that had found residence on his face dim any. “Yessss, oh-kay, we’re going to the market after lunch. No, that’s not a free pass to act on any of your schemes, so you can get rid of that idea already.” She sounded as though _she_ was the one that was suffering _his_ presence. Pfeh, typical.

Getting up from the floor he’d been lying on, he didn’t let that deter him from being mischievous and moved over to her, pretending to look over her shoulder at the documents she was studying.

“Ah, but where’d be the fun in that?”

“We’ve gotten chased off of the last island by a mob of confused marines because You, Mister, wanted to try out how the pepper looked in combination with cloth! And tried it out on live specimen to boot! Who does that?”

Oh, that had been a fun experiment, after the last mission had been done and over with. That the cloth had been worn by people hadn’t stopped him, either. He could have become a renown scientist, had he not entered the Revolutionary Army. Determination and ambition he had in spades. It all depended on which direction it was being guided into.

“That was an important experiment! What if one day we might need to know exactly that?” The pepper actually did colour the cloths an interesting shade of red that they mightn't ever use at all, what with them being from above-mentioned Revolutionary Army and rather preferring to stay unknown and in the background of the picture, but the smell had been intriguing. That it had attracted some of the local wildlife that had subsequently attached itself onto the still-wearing-the-pepper-sprayed-clothes locals was a minor setback, all considered.

Ah, who was he kidding. He’d been bored out of his mind, and needed a distraction from where his thoughts had drifted off to. The pepper buckets and the shower hose lying in his field of vision hadn’t helped, but the ensuing shenanigans once he’d combined the two above the town's Meeting Hall had certainly lifted his mood.

Unwilling participants in the experiment or not, the marines in there at the time had it coming, having suppressed the non-military folk whenever possible.

“I leave you alone for half an hour and that happened? Yeah, no. I’m not letting you out of my sight today!” His pout grew more pronounced. Funnily enough, she didn’t have the same problem whenever they were on a mission. Oh, right, then he wasn’t as bored by far. But simply going to the market like normal people? Going shopping? With Koala?

...

Gah, and he’d hoped to get her something without her noticing to make up for how he’d managed to put a hole into her last hat… time for some planning.

* * *

The marketplace was filled with people, noises and bartering, when the group finally managed to get there. Seriously, he hadn’t known it’d take quite as long to anchor a boat and be given orders to “not cause any trouble for the locals, if all goes well we’ll stay until sunrise and watch the fireworks, okay guys?”

However, once Thatch had mentioned said fireworks, seen his uncomprehending face and, realised that, no, his newest brother had no idea what those even were, he’d been in for a thorough and incredibly childish explanation, complete with hand gestures and sound effects. He hadn’t known pirates could be this silly before meeting the chef. And he still didn’t know more than that there were supposed to be lights in the sky tonight.

Ah, in any case they had arrived at the market and he’d been left to his own devices, so long as he “stayed out of trouble, okay?” The tattoo on his back should be enough to arrest wanna-be troublemakers in their tracks. The marine presence on the island was negligible, and stationed on the other end of town to boot. They could afford to show their insignia denoting them as belonging to Whitebeard's crew.

Ace leisurely strolled through the stalls, sightseeing more than actually buying anything. He didn’t have a particular thing he needed, but he’d gotten pocket money, so maybe he could indulge a little bit?

One stall at the back end of one of the rows of stalls featuring arts and crafts supplies had him pause and waver, fingering the bright red pearl necklace around his neck. He supposed the thread tying them together had grown quite brittle lately and his hat could use a new one to be placed more securely on his head, as well…

…

Alright.

Mind made up, he ambled towards it.

* * *

“Woah.”

Mesmerized, he made no secret of openly staring at the back of one of the shoppers at the market, plans and schemes forgotten for a moment, brows crinkling together. A shopper nearby, one with a funny pompadour-style hairstyle and a chef's getup, stopped in his own perusal of the wares offered at the spice stall to look over at him curiously, before following his line of sight and, almost unnoticeably, tensing a bit upon recognising the subject of his attention and obviously anticipating trouble.

“That tattoo had to have hurt when he got it done.” escaped him before he could help it, making the strange chef loosen his stance almost imperceptively and turning to continue with his shopping in peace.

While Sabo didn’t know what their connection was, he didn’t care a lot at that point. The tattoo was huge! It was a purple cross made of bones, with a skull with a banana in the middle and stretched all over the stranger's back. If Sabo focused, he could potentially remember what the mark reminded him of – which pirate crew the stranger was a member of – but, honestly? He didn’t care about that.

Tattoos he’d seen aplenty, but never one that big… Eyes wide, he unabashedly stared at the stranger's backside. Out of nowhere, a hand bashed against the back of his head.

“That’s rude! What the hell are you doing? Do you _want_ to antagonize people?” Ah, right. He hadn’t yet managed to ditch Koala. Pouting exaggeratedly, he pretended to be injured greatly and clutched his head with his hands, also to head off any more unwelcome attacks on his person.

“Don’t just hit people like that! That hurt!” She rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“Yeah, your pride more than your head, I bet. Come on, let’s head over there next!” He was about 60% certain the stall she was pointing at was one randomly chosen to distract him from the man with the banana-stache tattoo. His pout simply grew even more pronounced once he lost sight of the interesting colour scheme on the guy's back.

* * *

When a while later, they entered a rundown bar for dinner, he was kinda proud of himself for the fact that he did not blatantly ogle the still-half-naked back of the man with the huge-ass tattoo who was eating – no, devouring – stuff at the counter of the bar at a mesmerizing speed. It had nothing to do with Koala's threats of burning his hat should she notice him actively antagonise people again or anything, nu-uh, nope.

( _Something kept niggling at the back of his head when he stole another quick glance at the man’s getup but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what it was and it was annoying_ )

( _The hat that was innocently resting beside the man on the counter of the bar was weird, he’d give him that but that couldn't be what held his attention, could it?_ )

( _Also, who in their right mind wore a necklace around their neck that consisted of red pearls that were this big?_ )

The whole ensemble seemed to him to be made of things that hindered movement more than they helped it. In a fight, at least half of them would be irritating to him, were he the one wearing them. But kudos to the guy for pulling that look off. It certainly made for a memorable combination.

Sitting down at a random table, he felt he’d earned himself a mental pat on the shoulder for being one of the only ones present not staring at the guy for inhaling his dinner like there was no tomorrow. All it got him, however, was a weird look from Koala spelling a worried “Are you okay?” to him as though she’d shouted it. His expression soured. Just this once, he’d followed her incentive, and look where that got him. There was just no pleasing her sometimes.

Pulling a menu towards him, he perused it, pouting _again_. The two of them made small talk that he didn’t really pay attention to, his mind elsewhere entirely. The thought that that was one utterly cumbersome way to dress out of all of the ones available in the world led to random musings about his own stuff and possible improvements thereupon.

Lost in his mind as he was, it took Koala settling her hand on his arm to notice that the bar had fallen silent in the meantime and a confused atmosphere had developed between the guests. The reason was quickly apparent to even the worst observer out there: the focus of his attention and his thoughts had keeled over and fallen headfirst into his food.

Between tense whispers of “Is he dead?” and “Someone call a doctor!”, Sabo had moved to stand up before he could properly think about his next course of action, eyes on the guy all the time.

Something didn’t make sense, however. Standing in his spot at the table, he wavered shortly. Was the guy breathing? Yes, that was the guy’s chest rising up and down the barest bit that he’d been able to see just now, even from where he stood.

Did that mean… the guy had fallen asleep? While eating?

Just that moment, the door to the bar opened, and in spilled a bunch of people, one of whom he recognized as the weird chef character he’d seen earlier. The pompadour-ed man halted briefly in his tracks upon recognising the tattooed guy at the counter before ambling closer without a care in the world and practically shouting for the whole bar to hear, “Ah, fell asleep again, did he? And into his meal too! I did tell him he shouldn’t take on so many nightshifts, but does he listen? Noooooo…”

An amused expression occupied his face, making Sabo relax his stance and slowly sit back down again, heartbeat calming under a hand and trying to get the adrenaline cursing through his body under control. The chef checked the guy over, apparently not finding anything out of the ordinary, and, after making sure the face was clear of any food, he put his head onto the counter to continue snoozing there.

Sabo's brow furrowed. What a bothersome habit to have, falling asleep like that. And into his food, as well! What a waste of perfectly good food… A waiter making his way to their table reminded him that he was here because oh, well, there was food to be had at these kinds of establishments, wasn’t there? Their luck to have chosen one with an entertainment option. Absentmindedly, he ordered the next best appetizing thing on the menu before his thoughts circled back to the tattoo. And the guy.

Another covert look at the sleeping guy at the counter proved he was still out of it and probably would be for a while yet. Pompadour-guy was sat beside him and conversing with his other colleagues while looking at the menu. So. The situation was under control, then.

That was the point at which he realised he hadn’t gone there by himself and chanced a glance at his partner. Correction. His fuming partner who was trying to burn him alive with her eyes right now. Where had he fucked up this time? He hadn’t done anything, had he?

“Ah, back in the world of the living, are we? Only took you half a day.” She sniped. Her order arrived, an appetizer consisting of sweetened dumplings. Ramming her fork forcefully into one of them, it was clear that she was decidedly not in the best of moods and he did well not to antagonise her more than he already had. Silence reigned for a few moments, during which she strategically created bite-sized cubes out of the formerly round dumplings on her plate.

His order arrived and, quite frankly, he couldn’t remember having ordered the sandwich that he found in front of him, but it was something edible, and his stomach grumbled in response to the smell. Sabo didn’t waste a moment longer and tucked in, patiently waiting for her temper to calm, long since used to her moods.

Her energetic and annoyed stabbing of the dumplings cut off with a sigh a few blinks of the eye later already.

Casting her partner a worried look, she spoke up, "Are you sure you’re alright? Ever since you’ve been staring at that guy” she glanced meaningfully at the counter “this afternoon, you’ve been kinda… out of it.”

He had to concede that she was correct in her assessment. There was something about that tattooed guy that… what? Reminded him of something? From before?

( _A red pearl necklace appeared in his vision, hung around a big neck, on a body that was at least three times his size, standing hands akimbo, the body planted imposingly directly in front of him_ )

( _He remembered a lot of shouting and squealing and threats – lots of greenery and shrubbery and trees and foliage and stumbling and falling and hurting and red-_ )

( _and then, red, yellow and orange and fire burning brightly against his mind’s eye and he recoiled mentally, just barely keeping from flinching physically, as well_ )

Burying the memories and images that had all of a sudden invaded his mental landscape deep, deeper again so that they wouldn’t come up and make him lose his focus in a crucial moment, he forcefully shifted his concentration to the matter at hand: namely, calming down Koala and (at least momentarily) putting her worries to rest.

( _And when the two of them left, hurrying back to their current resting place so Koala could make sure he wasn’t lying to her, the only thing to remark upon was that the tattoed guy was by then slowly waking up and shaking off the last few remnants of sleepiness, having slept for longer than an hour by that point_ )

( _Had one of the two known, they’d have done something about that knowledge, carefulness and covers be damned, the Revolutionaries and their cause be damned to hell and back_ )

( _Had he remembered, had he known, he’d have met the pirate on purpose ~~and voluntarily let himself be pummeled for daring to forget his~~_ ~~brothers _and their_ bond~~)

* * *

The evening found the two of them on top of the nearby cliff, side by side, comfortable companions, best friends, on a simple outing. The light breeze was welcomed, cooling their heads after the long climb up. Overlooking the town and the harbour, the spot they’d chosen was strategically placed so they’d have the best view once the main event commenced.

The new hat rested perfectly on top of her head, the bright turquoise almost like a beacon for the sun's last rays to catch at their leisure. Mentally, he patted himself on the shoulder for a job well done. It hadn’t been easy to shake her for even the five minutes it had taken to buy her the hat and hiding it all day had been a nightmare, up until the point where he’d remembered that he’d been wearing one of his own and stuffed it underneath his for lack of a better hiding spot.

Obviously, she liked it, and privately Sabo thought it complimented her orange hair quite nicely. He’d be damned to tell her that, though. No way did she need an ego boost like that and he didn’t need to butter up to her at the moment, either. That he had somehow managed to get the correct size had bordered on a miracle and had surprised him as much as her. A content kind of silence surrounded them.

What of the tattoo guy? He was probably on one of the boats dotting the harbour, waiting expectantly for the show to start. Potentially, the pompadour-ed chef was there right besides him, keeping him engaged with jokes and mischievous retellings of past events featuring other comrades of theirs and maybe a Sea King or two.

Sabo had finally figured out what the tattoo symbolised and was kind of glad that he hadn’t gotten involved with a Whitebeard pirate of all people when they were supposed to stay low after completing their mission. That would have drawn all kinds of unnecessary attention to their presence on that island.

Unbidden, his gaze kept being drawn towards the boats floating close together not far away from the harbour planks. Somewhere on one of those was the guy with the bright red pearl necklace – and possibly the garish orange cowboy hat, too, he thought, remembering the hat lying on the counter besides the guy at the bar. What a… colourful combination. But he’d pulled it off, so good on 'im, Sabo felt.

* * *

Unknown to him, Revolutionary wasn’t far off in his musings. Indeed, Thatch kept regaling him with tall tales featuring other Whitebeards, most notably one feathery ananas-head who kept giving the chef grief about various decisions and actions of his – it was “truly incomprehensible” how much Marco was “stunting his genius’ growth” on board the Moby Dick. Next, he might – god forbid – cut his budget for chef-related expenses and wouldn’t that be a scandal of epic proportions? “Wouldn’t you agree, Ace?”

Having zoned out a bit, all the teenager could reply was an expressive “Wha-?” which didn’t faze the self-appointed Prankster King of the Whitebeards any, having long since gotten used to his family’s antics during his longwinded monologues and ramblings. Undeterred, Thatch kept up his chatter and Ace simply let it wash over him.

To be honest, all day long, the newest Whitebeard had been feeling a bit besides himself, like there was something he should have been doing instead of sitting in that boat and waiting for the spectacle to start, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what it was. It was almost like an itch that he couldn’t scratch off, a thing that he’d forgotten to do or say. Frankly, it was annoying the heck out of him.

Thatch, on the other hand, didn’t have the same problem, at all. The supply run had gone smoothly as far as he was concerned and that had been the most important worry of his that day. Besides, the show was to start soon, and the Whitebeards were in for a treat, as far as Thatch was concerned. The chef had prepared a champagne to celebrate the “new year” – this island’s festivities did not touch the rest of the world, but that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

He’d get Ace to lighten up, too, having picked up on the younger pirate’s mood that evening. Ever since they’d landed on the island, the raven-haired ex-captain had been absent-minded. His eyes kept shooting all over the town, as though he was looking for something… or someone. Thatch’s lips twitched up in a mischievous smile.

“Found something interesting? Or maybe even a _someone_?” the chef asked the youth slyly.

He got a confused “Huh?” for his trouble. That was rather telling, all things considered. So, scratch the “someone” from the list. Ace would react differently ( _most probably_ ), if that had been the case. Letting out a sad sigh, he proceeded to shake his head, all the while lamenting about the “youth of today” and their apparent lack of skills in the partner-getting department, to Ace’s obviously growing horror. Ah, it was fun riling his family up. Good times, good times.

* * *

The preparations were finished with due carefulness, champagne distributed freely and smaller lightshows initiated. Fire-breathing folk and entertainers of all ages and getups lined the streets, but the main show was to be in the air. The countdown was starting.

10 – people in the boats held up their heads, regarding the night sky to catch even so much as a flicker of what was about to happen.

9 – Pets could feel their owners getting ready, putting on coats and jackets for the night air was cold and they’d be outside for longer than a minute if what they knew of the experience proved right this time around, as well.

8 – The inhabitants of the town crowded their balconies, the beaches long since filled with crowds upon crowds of families celebrating.

7 – The anticipation in the atmosphere could be felt everywhere, even up on the coastline, where smaller groups of people had ventured to watch the view.

6 – Sabo’s eyes drifted over the boats once more, one last time, to look for something, search out someone in particular, an instinct making him look but he didn’t know for whom.

5 – Koala’s excitement made her fingers drum against her thighs, her smile growing wider with the countdown, eager eyes watching the sky attentively for what was about to start.

4 – Thatch was laughing, swirling the champagne in his glass in front of himself to underline a particularly funny part of the story he was telling right then.

3 – The water was calm, people happily crowding together to wait for the moment when, the point in time where the people in charge deemed it ready, deemed it the right time for –

2 – the engineers who made the last tweaks to the setups, the last checks were made to ascertain that everything was safe, that everything would go off at exactly the right moment.

1 – Ace held his breath, his fire thrumming within him, sensing something about to start, fuses being lit all around town and then suddenly

a single,

lone

firework

shot up into the air,

lighting up the night sky with its wheel of light and paving the way for others to join in. Soon, the whole night sky was filled with them, their colours and huge wheels made of light drops creating a spectacular view for everyone to see. On the ground, even more candles were lit, smaller fireworks bringing surprise and wonder to the people watching them.

* * *

Sabo’s shoulders relaxed, nigh imperceptively. His head was wiped blank of that day and he let go of the necklace with the red pearls as a mystery for another day. One corner of his lips went up as he regarded the show. When he felt more than saw movement at his side, he turned towards his partner, fully present in the moment, mind and body.

“Happy new year!” She told him exuberantly with a wide smile that lit up her face.

“Happy new year.” He answered back. Their glasses clinked. The fireworks illuminating the background were but distant poofs and bangs in his ears. Closing his eyes, he felt at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Was conceived in the last two hours until the 2019 countdown to the fireworks and published on the 4th. A bulk on it was written on the 1st and the 2nd, with the fourth left for writing the last few paragraphs and editing. Procrastination on important papers is good for creative writing content creation, I'll say.  
> Will be beta-read and (mildly) rewritten on a later date.
> 
> In the meantime, have fun with [THIS FIREWORK SHOW](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeRYc691LhY), dear readers.
> 
> Leave a comment to let me know what you thought, if you're in the mood?
> 
> Thank you very much for reading! Cheers!


End file.
